Suffering Poem by Satish Verma
Suffering
When I ask for
the innovation, you
lob the moon.
Glass and sand
in your eyes, melt into
kisses. There was no
other way.
You cannibalize my
poems, make a statuette
and wear the pendant.
You stone a wall
of paper. Why did it
carry the names of
failed gods?
You watch the stream
of tears feeding the red
poppies about to be
slaughtered.
Friday, December 28, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/28/2024 1:19:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
